


Pirouette in the Dark

by blubu



Series: Blind Ghost AU [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Other, and has issues, dancing gay bugs, ghost is a spicy boi, ghost is blind, grimm's into em, grimmchild is just pure baby, post dream no more, they dont know how to dance, they love their parents, they're like tf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 15:57:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blubu/pseuds/blubu
Summary: Grimm can be infuriating at times. It's much harder to deal with his impudent attitude when they can't even see him.





	Pirouette in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i took like a month w this i have zero motivation or will to exist  
> anyway imma hit the dab like wiz khalifa and wait til i can smoke later peace

The Vessel frequently still visited the Troupe.

 

Why? Well, why  _ not? _

 

Now that the infection had been eradicated and their sibling (who were usually simply referred to as “Pure”) had been freed, Ghost no longer had a role. Pure, even after having lost their arm, decided to take upon the role of king themself. Yes, the knight was glad the burden had been lifted off their shoulders, but they knew Pure had only taken up the task because of Ghost’s newfound disability.

 

Whenever they could feel the other’s concerns pouring down on them, they always wanted to argue something back: Pure’s  _ arm  _ is missing, why don’t you coddle them?

 

But Pure was much bigger than them. With strength returning, much faster as well. Ghost couldn’t see their sibling’s battles, but from what they heard and the vibrations they felt as nails clashed and claws tore through the air, they had come to assume Pure’s disability was simply not a hindrance at all. Which, in Ghost’s opinion, was just  _ unfair. _

 

They _ are _ happy for Pure, though. They deserve it.

 

The smaller Vessel now resided in Dirtmouth, as voted on by their companions. (Quirrel had stated Ghost should reside in the City of Tears despite the dangers still lurking, however, was quickly shut down by the small knight’s older siblings who only had to glare at him before he hastily took back his comment). Hornet had watched over the town as part of her role as the protector of Hallownest—always watching but never interacting—and had seen it as the safest place for Ghost to reside.

 

They weren’t complaining. Not  _ exactly. _ They had grown close with the bugs that lived in the quaint town. Iselda especially. The much taller bug had taken it upon herself to spend weeks familiarizing Ghost with the entire town, holding their hand while the other gently brushed over each house and acquainted with each obstacle.

 

They also enjoyed simply sitting on that bench while Elderbug spoke with them. The bugs residing in the town had been what made the place truly feel like  _ home. _

  
  


The Troupe resided just outside Dirtmouth. This made it quite easy for Ghost to deliver the Grimmchild to their other parent whenever the little one wished. (The Vessel was still unsure how the tiny monster became their child as well, but hey have decided it’s simply easier to accept it).

 

So, that was what they were doing today. They felt the hard stone just beneath the stubs that made up their feet, using their nail to tap the ground around them to make sure they didn’t trip at any point in time. 

 

The Vessel could hear their child’s excited squabbling, high pitched squawks filling the otherwise calm air. 

 

Their nail whacked against something soft. The child’s excitement, impossibly, only grew as the Vessel felt them nudging against their back and pushing them through what they assumed to be the opening of the tent. The stubs of their feet sunk into the padding of the floor. They began tapping the floor with their nail again while following behind the eccentric chirps of the Grimmchild.

 

They nodded at the source of music as they presumably passed by Brumm, a soft grunt answering them as they passed.

 

They felt the walls open around them as they stepped into the main room of the tent. The Grimmchild squawked and happily curled up on Ghost’s head while awaiting the Troupe leader.

 

They didn't have to wait long, however, before the small Vessel heard the telltale noise of Grimm appearing in the room. They tilted their shell up at him in greeting as their child abandoned them for their father. 

 

“Ah, yes.” He heard the gravelly voice of the leader. “It is wonderful to see you as well, my child.” He chuckled, child mewling in response.

 

This was how visits with Grimm usually went. The Vessel enjoyed coming for the wonderful music Brumm played, however, these visits were for the Grimmchild and their father to spend time with one another. They wondered what kind of relationship the two had. How they bonded. The small bug thinks of their own parents, their mother had wished for them to take their sibling’s place even when all they heard was Pure’s restless  _ screaming _ , and their father just  _ throwing them away _ , falling and falling and  _ falling— _

 

“What is on your mind, my friend?” Grimm’s voice managed to break them out of their darkening thoughts. They heard a soft whimper from the child, most likely fretting over the Vessel as well.

 

They shook their head. This only further piqued the leader’s curiosity. 

 

“I find it quite hard to believe such,” he chuckled, “as even without your sight, you seemed to be glaring at the two of us quite harshly.”

 

It was clear he was only teasing, but the Vessel still felt void rush just behind their shell in shame. They hadn’t meant to get so lost in their thoughts.

 

“Ah, do not fret, friend. We do not blame you.” Grimm seemed to simply wave it off, the child whining as their curiosities remained unanswered. Ghost slumped, tension rolling away from their body as Grimm snickered.

 

“But as I recall, it  _ has _ been quite a while since we have been allowed to catch up.” They could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Tell me, what has now presented itself to you in your new docile life?”

 

The smaller bug would have growled at the word “docile” if they could. The child, always one to notice their parents’ moods, quickly detached themself from their father to curl up between Ghost’s horns and purr. The Vessel’s body eased once more.

 

Realizing they still had not answered Grimm’s nearly  _ impertinent  _ question, their shell tilted to the side.

 

_ ‘Trying. Hard. Ghosthurting.’ _

 

They do not know what brought them to admit such a thing, though they assume it may have been because talking to Grimm was so easy. The Vessel still quite obviously found themselves unable to properly sort their words and communicate—something Pure had grown exceptional at—and, honestly? It was almost embarrassing. Quirrel’s confused grunts as he attempted to decipher what exactly the shorter bug was trying to communicate were nearly mortifying. Grimm didn’t have that problem, it seemed. He always replied without missing a beat.

 

This instance was no different.

“Ah, I see, dear. Learning to cope after gaining such a wound… It couldn’t be considered simply ‘physical’ anymore, hm?”

 

Ghost didn’t know exactly what he meant by that. Their focus shifted to the weight of the nail still held in the coldness of their hand. They recalled those moments of great victory and grandeur; the clean defeats of their enemies; the feeling of Soul powering their small body after every slice; the strain in the void that made up their very essence as they embraced the memory of their painful attempt at ascension from The Abyss…

 

They didn’t realize their frame had begun shaking until the soft, insistent noise of tapping reached them. They simply dropped the nail and curled in on themselves.

 

They were  _ helpless _ . The only thing that had gotten them through this crumbling kingdom, this crumbling  _ world _ , was the power they held in their spells and the pale ore that made up the lethal weapon they gripped in their hand. Being able to  _ see  _ how their opponent would strike, being able to  _ see _ where  _ they  _ needed to strike—they never wanted to admit it, but losing their sight had left them feeling vulnerable. They needed someone to protect them, needed someone to guide them and they hated it, they could never even think to put the panic and weakness and the  _ pain  _ into words.

 

A rough claw stilled the Vessel’s quivering, positioned over and gently traveling down the grainy texture of their left horn. Another claw ran down the soft material of the cloak covering their small shoulder, beginning to massage small circles into the fleshy void.

 

Ghost gently, slowly, shook their shell and leaned into the touch. No, their wound could no longer be considered just physical. It affected them much more than that, even if they didn’t understand how exactly that was.

 

The leader shifted against them, a rumbling noise escaping him. Oddly, it calmed them.

 

“My friend…” His voice suddenly cut through the air and mingled with the chirpings of their child and the soft melody of Brumm’s accordion. “I wonder… Would you do me the honor of partaking in one more dance?”

 

Surprise sparked instantly within the Vessel. Surely, he didn’t mean…?

 

Grimm had been the one to cancel the ritual when the news of Ghost’s state had reached him, declaring even gathering the flames would be much too dangerous to the disabled bug. (Which of course angered Ghost, but they knew to attempt to argue with the much larger bug would get them absolutely nowhere. They had quickly learned that when he was set on something, he rarely ever changed his mind).

 

Which was why it was instantly a shock that Grimm was suggesting they ‘danced’ again. Speaking of which, Ghost was still confused as to why he called it dancing. Was that just the name of the way he fought?

 

Seeming to notice the smaller bug’s apprehension, the gentle ministrations on their horn and shoulder began once more.

 

“Do not fret, my dear friend,” The gravelly voice practically purred out. “This dance will be much different from our last.”

 

Thinking he meant he would just be easier on them, Ghost slowly nodded and reached for their fallen nail—only to realize it was no longer there. The child chirped almost mischievously, noise bouncing off something like their  _ nail _ while Grimm tutted at them.

 

“As I stated, this dance will be different from our last. There will be no weapons required.”

 

The small bug tilted their shell away from Grimm’s claws, both leaving their frame as Grimm stepped back. How were they going to fight if they couldn’t use their weapon? Sure, they had spells, however, those were useless if they had no Soul to cast them.

 

They felt one of the leader’s hands return to grasp one of their own. He pulled them forward as the melody Brumm played abruptly changed. 

 

“This dance will involve no fighting, however, the fluidity of such will remain. All you need to do is follow my lead.”

 

That was much easier said than done. Ghost couldn’t see where Grimm was moving next as they felt themselves being pulled along. 

 

Their grip on Grimm’s clawed hand only tightened with every spin he made to their small body, every tug he made, every time the stub of their foot caught against the padding of the tent.

 

They still had no idea what he was attempting to do. He had mentioned fluidity, yet all they could make of Grimm’s movements were wild and unplanned steps and certainly uncalled for spins. 

 

Eventually, the small Vessel had failed to keep up with one of Grimm’s more extravagant moves, small body flailing as it crashed into the soft, albeit obviously  _ dangerous  _ floor.

 

They crossed their arms and stayed sitting there to show their displeasure. They  _ still  _ didn’t understand why Grimm was doing this. They had no way of knowing what his next move would be,  _ absolutely none,  _ and no matter how hard that was to admit and how much it  _ hurt,  _ Ghost couldn’t deny it. 

 

Not only this, but the Vessel couldn’t figure out what the leader’s goal to this was. There was no actual fighting, no burning fire or clashing of a nail—unless Grimm’s mission was to simply ridicule them. 

 

They felt those betraying claws at their horn again, almost soothingly tracing their shell.

 

“No, no. You aren’t doing it correctly, my friend. Do you know anything about dancing?” He almost huffed.

 

The Vessel finally stood, attempting to glare in the direction of the leader.

 

“Higher.”

 

They turned their shell higher, only to turn away again when a gravelly laugh escaped him.

 

Finally, they simply shook their shell at his question. They had continued to assume dancing was just some sort of combat, however, they assumed that must have been incorrect as Grimm didn’t seem to once attempt to hurt them through the whole ordeal. 

 

His claws moved to grab their small hand, twisting their body before grabbing the other as well.

 

“Just follow the music.”

 

_ Music? _ What did the music have to do with this? Sure, it was nice, but… 

 

Almost as if sensing their confusion, Grimm pulled them into a light spin—almost as if twisting with the changing beat of the music. The Vessel tapped the bottom of their shell in wonder. 

 

They were not allowed much time to think, however, before clawed hands once again dragged them to the melody of the soft accordion. 

 

For a small, silly moment, Ghost had almost assumed they had  _ become _ the music. They began to finally understand Grimm’s goal of making them flow as if the soft vibrations jumping from the instrument being played by the musician.

 

Further on in their dance, the Vessel became just a  _ bit _ overly confident and began practically leading the dance themself.

 

Even in the overwhelming nothing all around them, they could sense the leader’s presence, the flow of music and steps allowing them to always know his next move. They had no way over knowing what they look like—no one is able to just look at themselves, and for Ghost it would be a  _ tad bit harder _ —however they felt like a cloud and that was all that mattered. 

 

To add to the melody, they could hear Grimm’s gravely laugh at their excitement. Admittedly, it was not the most  _ beautiful  _ sound in the world, per se, but Ghost only felt an increase of giddiness enter them at the sound. 

 

Eventually, the magic ceased. The partners were far too exhausted to continue in their activities, even with their energy coming from seemingly unlimited sources, and Brumm had complained his arms beginning to grow sore as well. The two waited patiently to regain their bearings, the Vessel’s flush stemming from the euphoria their dance had emitted and weaved through the void beneath their shell. The Grimmchild was happily squawking just next to them in the excitement of the show they had displayed.

 

Like this, it was harder for Ghost to sense Grimm’s presence. They could  _ feel  _ his body close to them, but somehow it just wasn’t the same. The heat didn’t seem to burn into them as intensely. They slumped their shoulders at this.

 

Grimm patted their shell. “Well, my dear, it is beginning to grow late. As much fun as this has been, I believe it is time for the two of you to return home.” The gravelly voice broke them out of their thoughts.

 

They nodded as the child whined. It was nearly the child’s bedtime, not to mention they needed to be fed.

 

Ghost allowed them to curl up between their horns as they used their nail to find their way out, tapping against the padding of the tent.

 

Just as they began to feel the rough stone of the street beneath the stubs of their feet, they heard the leader’s voice once more.

 

_ “‘Til next time, my love.” _

 

They couldn’t wait.


End file.
